


Death Be Thy Guide

by warmheartseek



Series: Nygmobblepot Week 2019 [3]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Oswald Is Death, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Day 3: AU/Crossover, Death is A Softy, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mentioned Gobblepot, Nygmobblepot Week 2019, Past Relationship(s), TW: Attempted Suicide Mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 13:01:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18250367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warmheartseek/pseuds/warmheartseek
Summary: Welcome to Day 3! I've had this one buried in my unfinished documents for months and I'm so happy this week gave me a reason to finish it--it's been so long I can't even remember what inspired it only that I love this story dearly and I'm excited to share it <3P.S - A big giant hug to all the amazing wonderful comments I've gotten on these fics so far, they warm my heart and put a smile on my face so thank you thank you thank you!!





	1. Chapter 1

The stench of crimson and iron mixed like oil in water with the salted breeze. Ed flexed reddened knuckles, not his own blood--or it was, he couldn’t find the energy to care either way. There was no telling with the scene at his feet. A pitiful specimen broken and bent into unnaturally jagged edges, entirely nameless and out of luck. Adherent blood still cooled over his shoes and left him to wonder why he’d shined them in the first place. Ed supposed he’d wanted to look presentable. 

 

_ Typical Edward Nygma, always has to make a mess of things. Ruiner of leather and lives.  _

 

“Be quiet. You know why we have to do this.” 

 

_ Have to or want to? Just like the question of whose blood is on your hands, neither of us care anymore. We are beginning to blur, Eddie.  _

 

Ed had relented arguing a long time ago, first for exhaustion sake but soon enough it became useless to debate a point both parties agreed upon. Argument for argument’s sake did not pleasant bedfellows make. 

 

_ I thought we agreed that I would handle the word play.  _

 

Resigned to a seat in the audience of his own thoughts, they flashed by black and white, fuzzy behind his eyes. Ed begged and pleaded with himself to hold it all back, built a dam that was vast as his mind and just as weak. It was only a matter of time before that nagging voice won over, Ed easily wooed by promises of silence and closure. 

 

In his defense it all sounded so beautiful, a front row seat to his own thoughts in technicolor, all of it a privilege he had to earn from himself and grant to himself. Slowly but not so surely, Edward had pieced his beliefs back together. Though the stains of a sunken, second voice felt like removing red wine from cotton cloth. 

 

The shift of an already biting wind announced him, a quiet procession falling on eager ears. He stood near an unfinished structure, poised to pounce but waiting patiently, time being of no consequence. Black silk hugged the form he took, lithe and unassuming save for the striking green of his eyes. 

 

_ Bring him closer _

 

Ed cleared his fog of reverence, confused and frustrated that the subject of his obsession still stood so far away. 

 

Fingernails bit into his palms, “Why isn’t he coming on his  _ own _ .” 

 

_ Look down, genius. _

 

Still stubbornly alive, but only just. Ed pressed a soiled shoe to the man’s windpipe, delighted in the gurgles and sputters of final breath, relished in their siren song. 

 

Finally he appeared in front of Ed, disappointment carved into his porcelain features. 

 

“Oh, Edward. Summoned me again, have you? I ought to punish you for disobeying.”

 

_ Please _ .  

 

Ed steeled himself and caught his own breath in his hands when he looked at the figure. A shiny black suit complimented the fine dark feathers wrapped around his shoulders, the angles of his hair paired well against the jutting bones of Edward’s victim. 

 

An unintentional tribute. A calculated sacrifice. 

 

“A nightmare for some, for others a savior I come. My hands cold and bleak, it’s warm hearts they seek,” Edward fashioned the words from silence surrounding them. 

 

He remained unimpressed. Ed soldiered on.

 

“What am I?”

 

“Boring me.”

 

He picked at imaginary dirt beneath his fingernails, he dealt closely with creatures of the underground, commanded decomposers beneath cool soil but he would be damned if there was any trace of filth on this form. 

 

Damned if he did, damned if he didn’t. 

 

Edward’s shoulders went rigid, used to their back and forth by now. How many times had it been? Twelve? Twenty? It was easy to lose track. Every time he was distracted by the figure’s entrance, unannounced or in a flurry of feathers, each more wonderful than the last. Ed yearned to learn more about the mystery behind the visage, peel back layers of skin like the mask it was and solve the ultimate puzzle. 

 

To know death. 

 

Edward’s fascination had begun innocent enough, as innocent as bleeding out on an icy bathroom floor could be. It was a silly experiment and one he hardly cared to replicate anymore. The hypothesis was deceptively simple, devise a way to escape one’s own mind. The answer seemed clear enough. 

 

_ Stupid, stupid Edward--can’t even kill himself correctly, had to go and mess that one up too.  _

 

It was meaningless to defend himself against himself, reminding that nagging voice in the back of his mind that it wasn’t like he’d intended to fail was futile. Edward recalled the bite of sharpened steel, how cold the room was after he’d lost what was presumably a second pint of blood. Already weak vision blurred in and out, corrective lenses helping very little in his final moments, everything had gone according to grim plans. 

 

Within the fog there remained clouded memory of a slender figure standing in the corner among shadow, observing wordlessly. Edward did not remember hearing anyone come in, only how the ground tilted towards him, reached up to ease his fainting body onto it. Light got thinner while his breath got heavier, so much needless effort to fill his lungs when he could just lie down for a minute, rest and gather his strength. 

 

“ _ Pathetic _ ,” echoed in the lonely room. 

 

The floor moved farther and farther away, Ed felt a chill colder than the one before yank at his collar and drag him from the pool of red beneath. He struggled to think of what had made such a mess. 

 

_ Your mess. ‘A’ for effort.  _

 

Edward’s head swam as he relented to a wash of black.

 

He woke up in his own bed, terribly light headed and sick, like he’d had a handful too many grasshoppers the night before. But there were no spirits, only the ghost of a memory at the back of his head, itchy and teasing. 

 

_ You sure there was nothing else? No _ one _ else?  _

 

“No one else,” Ed repeated. 

 

But that sounded wrong. How else would he have made it to bed, the rapid blood loss surely should have killed him. It all brought about the experiment’s conclusion, impure intentions yield improper results. Ed pressed a palm to his forehead, felt like it was the only thing keeping his skull in one piece. That memory, what  _ was _ it-- _ who  _ was it. 

 

_ Hate to interrupt. _

 

“No, you don’t.”

 

Ed groaned. Speaking, right. There were apparently many things that sent reams of pain shooting through the body after returning from the brink of death. 

 

_ You’re right, I don’t. But that’s not the point-- _

 

“That is  _ absolutely _ the point,” Ed hissed through bared teeth, “don’t you ever give it a rest? You can’t even leave me alone after I tried to--”

 

The words smoldered on Ed’s tongue, a once scorching fire now turned to ash in his mouth, an action easily executed but not so easily verbalized.  

 

_ After you tried to kill us. Sorry Eddie, you can’t get rid of me that easily.  _

 

Ed huffed, disappointment an old friend long gone and defeat a new one here to stay.

 

“Can’t blame a man for trying.” 

 

_ ‘Fraid I can. In fact, I blame you explicitly. You’re just too scared of actually becoming someone worthy of life to even try it. Who knows, you might prefer it to this sad-sack routine you’ve got going. _

 

Ed dragged hands down his face and let the blunt nails dig into his skin to prove he was awake, not cast into some unfortunate circle of hell. He looked from behind parted fingers to see it was still the same circle it had always been. 

 

Hell sweet Hell. 

 

It was all the same, save for one small detail. A clue, so obvious it was easy to overlook. The glint of green neon flashing from the window reflected on a shiny black feather. There were no windows open, surely some random bird from the rooftop hadn’t flown in and out unnoticed. 

 

_ Not that you were in a position to be paying careful attention to much of anything. _

 

“Ha, ha. I see I’ve clearly missed my start in comedy.” 

 

Ed padded over to the small feather, taking it gently between his fingers. It was soft and cool to the touch, nothing like Edward had seen in the few ornithological books that lay dusty on his shelves. Curiosity placed the feather in his pocket to be examined when better resources were available. 

 

It was too easy to go unnoticed at work, brought back from the precipice of eternity yet the men and women of the GCPD still looked past him. 

 

_ What do you think changed? Besides the fact you’re working on replenishing a few red blood cells.  _

 

“I--don’t know,” Ed mumbled to himself in the silence of a sterile lab. 

 

Clearly something had kept him alive and flimsy a hold though it was, Ed couldn’t help feeling it wasn’t an accident. He was first and foremost a man of science, logic was the rock of his foundation so there was no use jumping to supernatural conclusions. 

 

_ Think, think, think. _

 

There was blood, lots of it. 

 

_ Yessss. _

 

Too much for Ed to be sitting in his usual seat, at his usual desk, analyzing a feather left on his apartment floor. 

 

_ I think we’ve established that. _

 

Ed remembers the cold, tile floor pressing against his cheek, a stark juxtaposition to the warm life flowing from his body. His skin was cold, a chill centralized to one area on his shoulder like something was holding on. His lungs filled with air, so fast and so powerful it was near unbearable. 

 

_ Getting warmer. So to speak.  _

 

That figure in the corner of his eye, Ed had tried to crane his neck for a glimpse but it was like the image wanted to stay just out of sight, omnipotent in its actions. 

 

_ Come now, you’re so close, Eddie.  _

 

Ed closed his eyes against the brilliance of light reflected off stainless steel around his office. Everything felt too bright, too loud, too  _ much.  _

 

“I can’t do this here, I need more time. I need--,” Ed stopped himself, overcome by the uncomfortable silence behind his eyes. 

 

“I need to repeat the experiment, replicate the results.” 

 

_ ‘Atta boy.  _

 

* * *

 

Ed gathered the necessary materials. Blades of all shapes, instruments of all sizes. This was going to be perfect, it was going to be exactly the result he needed. 

 

_ I don’t think you’re dumb enough to try last week’s stunt again but for posterity, indulge me.  _

 

Ed fumbled with a chair in the center of his living room.

 

“You’re in my head, figure it out.” 

 

A burlap sack covered this element of his experiment. Hard to be impartial when your materials could stare back with pleading eyes. 

 

“Now, I’m going to be calculated about this,” Ed spoke aloud, “clearly my experience was slow, drawn out.” 

 

_ Years of anatomy classes and you still managed to miss a major artery.  _

 

“Thank you peanut gallery,  _ moving on _ . I’m going to start--,” he picked up a small scalpel and plunged it into forgiving flesh, “here.” 

 

The screams were muffled but still sent a wave of panic like sickness through Ed’s body. A shiver ricocheted up his spine in unsettling delight. Another strike to a soft, lower stomach. 

 

_ Easy.  _

 

The word was sharp at the back of Ed’s mind, a warning. He was right, Ed needed to hold back. The only thing that permeated the silence was the labored breath of his subject, but another bag to stifle any noise would likely cause suffocation before the experiment’s conclusion. Ed checked his watch while irritation began to gnaw in his gut. 

 

“Just as I thought. A simple mistake, the wandering mind of a dying man,” Ed huffed, failing to keep disappointment from his voice. 

 

_ If you’d just be patient.  _

 

“I DON’T  _ WANT  _ TO BE PATIENT!” 

 

Ed ripped into burlap, slicing wherever he could, deaf to the sounds his subject made. The metallic smell of iron was sharp, assaulting every heaving breath he took. The chill down his spine was overpowering, he shook with adrenaline and quickly lost count of the times silver tinted crimson. When movement stopped altogether Ed was left with his own breath and the dripping scalpel in his hand. His subject slumped in an unnatural position, illustrated wordlessly what Edward had done. He was still shaking, like every drive of the blade took away a degree of warmth. 

 

“Patience is a virtue, they say.” 

 

The voice startled Ed, gave him pause to figure out if those words were said aloud or merely an internal anecdote. 

 

“And I should know, I took away the breath that penned it.” 

 

The figure stood in shadow, a slight frame barely visible. Like he wanted to stay just out of sight. 

 

“W-Who are you?” 

 

Ed stumbled back,  tripping over motionless limbs. 

 

The figure stepped forward, his face illuminated by daylight streaming in through Ed’s apartment windows. He was severe, angled, everything about him suggested awful power. 

 

“I think ‘what’ is more appropriate in this case. Not so much  _ who _ as  _ what _ ,” he confirmed. 

 

Words turned to ash on Ed’s tongue, he spit soot in place of sound. 

 

The figure quirked his head, something like disappointment in his expression. 

 

“Well, this is quite a mess you’ve made here,” he looked between carnage and its stunned creator, “Edward.” 

 

Ed watched the figure saunter to his mess, eyes roving while he circled it, a vulture measuring up tonight’s feast.

 

His face was pale, with smattered freckles over a crooked nose. Ed noted the odd contrast, something so gentle scattered over a surface that was sharp as glass and looked twice as deadly. His dress was simple, a black suit with matching waistcoat and shirt, gloved hands skirted the subject’s chair. His tie looked to be the same until it glinted dark purple in the light. Buttoned up to his neck, sleeves cuffed and tight around thin wrists, not a speck of skin below the collar to be seen. 

 

Ed was enraptured.  He couldn’t explain it, but he was in the presence of royalty. 

 

The figure finished his circling and stood with his back to Edward, a hand placed on the subject’s shoulder. He took in a deep breath and sighed with satisfaction. 

 

“My work here is done,” he shot a warning glance over one shoulder, “do not summon me again.” 

 

A cold rush signaled his exit and Ed scrambled to be where he’d stood. A cursory scan noted nothing of immediate importance. Ed stared down at his blood soaked loafers, felt the corners of his mouth crack. 

 

A single black feather sat unsullied in a pool of red. 

 

* * *

 

Experiment became intent, a devouring need that replaced blood in his veins and air in his lungs. Such a powerful presence he’d been audience to, nothing that Ed had ever felt before even while he watched the compelling transformation of life into death under his fingertips. Still, he wanted more. To bask in prestige and absorb the attentions of an idea cloaked in mystery. So he would disobey, he would bury a blade in that warning and twist it with delight. Ed  looked death in the face and marveled at its splendor and would do it again, if he had anything to say about it. 

 

_ You know you’re playing with fire.  _

 

“So I’ll wear a Kevlar suit. Spare me the safety talk, you’ve never cared about my recklessness.” 

 

He cursed under his breath, this subject was rather reluctant and far too inclined to squirm. Ed took a heavy book from his side table and hoped to high heaven it didn’t finish the job too quickly. Another name called, another unwilling participant. But it was alright, Ed would accept a litany of tasteless insults if it meant continuing his work. 

 

“What will it be tonight?” 

 

Fingers ran over brilliant steel, with the added precaution of gloves to accompany this run. Ed grabbed the odd one out, a grungy crowbar that stood apart from other gleaming instruments.

 

A black sheep of the family, Ed could relate.

 

He brought it up to rest on his fingertips, regarding it in the light, and stole a glance at his subject bound to the very same chair he’d used before. No burlap this time. As his curiosity grew, so the details of his experiments followed.

 

Ed landed a hardy blow to his subject’s rib cage, savoring the sick crack of bone under heavy steel. Muffled cries echoed off his apartment walls but he took consolation in pleading eyes. 

 

“I suppose you’ll think twice about using such offensive language next time?” 

 

Ed let the crowbar’s weight bounce in his palm. His subject nodded desperately, tears beginning to stain the cloth wrapped around a useless mouth. 

 

“Well, apologies. My wording made it seem like there would be a next time to worry about,” Ed dragged each letter through thick insincerity.  

 

He swung the crowbar, both hands wrapped tight, and noted the difference in sound between metal hitting ribs versus the skull. It was richer, more fulfilling. Ed jotted down a quick note to test other areas later, what sweet music a human body could make. A cold blanket of air announced his guest of dishonor with Ed’s bated breath wrapped neatly in a velvet box as an offering to his new friend. 

 

“Surely I must be mistaken, but I believe I told you not to waste my time with this,” he sucked his teeth, the spark of anger in his eyes was almost palpable between them. 

 

Ed tasted familiar ash on his tongue. 

 

“I am given, and I am taken. I am truly yours, and yet I am shared with everyone. What am I?” 

 

The figure looked incredulous, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His stare singed where it roamed over Ed. 

 

“Are you an idiot, Edward?” 

 

“An idi--,” Ed faltered, “No. A name, the answer is a name. Do you have one?” 

 

He looked toward the ceiling of Ed’s apartment and inhaled deeply before unfurled arms landed at his sides. He stood upright, still shorter than Ed but somehow possessing all the imposition that Ed lacked. The figure moved forward with a noticeable limp that stuttered his movement. He stopped just short of being toe to toe, sharp nose tilted up. 

 

“I’m called by many names, and I’m curious to know why you deserve to know even one of them.” 

 

Ed didn’t have an answer. He could be honest, let unholy desires flood his hands and hope they didn’t soak into the floorboards beneath them but the need to keep his companion close burned under his skin. Ed wanted nothing more than to cage this bird and make it sing. 

 

“If you’re going to sit there and continue to be of little use to me, I will happily take what’s mine and be on my way--” 

 

Ed grabbed onto the figure’s arm, a shock wave of surprise at the feeling beneath his fingers; flesh, bone, and ice. He was shockingly cold underneath the layers of fabric but Ed found himself more surprised at such substance in abstraction. 

 

“Please stay. I’m curious, that’s all,” Ed pleaded. 

 

“You’re kidding. You killed two men because you’re  _ curious _ ?”

 

Ed released his grip, “Is that so unbelievable?” 

 

“Not entirely,” he scoffed, “but it’s a terrible excuse.” 

 

Ed carved offense into his face like soft marble. 

 

“And what’s so terrible about it?” 

 

The figure laughed, its cadence cruel and brittle.

  
  


“Oh, shall I count the ways? Let’s begin with; lazy, vague, and not to mention unoriginal.”

  
  


A sharp finger dug into Ed’s chest.

  
  


“Men like you use that excuse time after time, century after century just so you don’t have to face your true nature. I see you and I know exactly who you are but please, by all means, quiver behind curiosity. Heaven knows I won’t stand in your way.” 

  
  


Ed blinked surprise out of his eyes, he floundered to understand the mixture of feelings that ricocheted in his chest. A man lay dead for simply insulting Ed and there he stood, wearing this bereavement like a badge of honor. Fascination bloomed in place of blind anger, the sensation like a phantom limb that sat heavy against his side. 

  
  


Ed nodded softly, “I suppose if you know so much, I could stand to learn a thing or two.” 

 

  
Porcelain features cracked like fine lines in a priceless china bowl. Quick as it came, his bewilderment settled easily into disinterest. But the feeling was there, and Ed was the reason. 

  
  


“You’re a curious thing, Edward. But something tells me you know that already.”  

  
  


He made his way around the subject’s chair once more, repeating the same circle, ending with a satisfied inhale and one hand on the dead man’s shoulder. The figure traipsed back in front of Ed. 

  
  


“Well, you’ve certainly made for  _ interesting,  _ company to say the least,” he paused, “and for what it’s worth, I wasn’t lying about my name--I have many. But for the sake of brevity, you can call me Oswald.” 

 

With a flurry of frozen air, he vanished like before. Ed scrambled to where he stood and immediately picked up the feathered calling card. He ran careful fingers over its edge, watching the fibers bend and separate. 

  
  


“Until next time,” he rolled the name over his tongue, found just the right spot in his mouth, “Oswald.” 


	2. Chapter 2

“You’re not going to let me rest, are you?” 

 

Ed watched Oswald survey the bloodied and broken soul at their feet. Ed chose to ignore the question for his own. 

 

“Are you the Devil?”

 

Oswald rolled striking eyes back and back, he sighed with heavy breath. Ed loathed how his arms were always crossed, constantly playing defensive.

 

“Humans have  _ such _ a narrow view of the afterlife, it really is astonishing,” he mourned. 

 

Ed’s ears perked up, “So you’re not human? No, I’ve got it. You were human at one time but you did something so horrible that your soul was damned to walk the earth for eternity as the Devil’s puppet.” 

 

“Raised Catholic, were you?”  

 

Ed grimaced. 

 

“Are you going to answer any of my questions, Oswald?” 

 

Ed felt the chill approach him before Oswald reached him.

 

“Are you going to answer mine, Ed?” 

 

_ He’s feisty. Try not to screw this one up.  _

 

Ed shook the thought free and kicked the body near his foot for safe measure. Oswald did his job well, there was no reason to assume his victim was anything other than a slave to eternity now, but the tense air between them needed relief. He watched bloody water run under their feet, trickle down dirty concrete in a dingy ally. 

 

“I’m not the Devil,” Oswald resigned, “not in the way you think. That ridiculous idea of a God’s loyal servant fallen from grace and cast into hellfire, the drama is so very human I could choke.” 

 

“Then, who are you?” 

 

“I am a vessel in your world, Ed. I am the murdered man’s misfortune, the echo of a babe that never cried. I am an idea few understand but everyone fears,” he paused. 

 

Ed shivered the closer Oswald got, standing toe to toe was a thrill he wanted to bottle and possess like a poor man’s snake oil. 

 

“All but you, of course. You run to me. You don’t simply take opportunities when they arise, you create them.”  

 

Oswald’s arms unfurled and slender fingers reached up to take Ed’s chin in a firm grip. He tried to keep his jaw steady, but the feeling of Oswald’s cool skin only made the trembling worse. Ed refused to shadow his awe, taking in the detail of Oswald’s face with the knowledge he might never get this chance again. 

 

“I would never run from you,” Ed whispered. 

 

It felt too much like a promise between lovers. Oswald released him and Ed could feel the suffocating desperation in his throat. 

 

“No you didn’t, not the night we met. I remember how close I came to taking your last breath for my collection, made a place for it and everything. You’re a lucky one, duty called to more pressing matters--,” 

 

Ed parted his lips but the words died on his tongue. He wished for Oswald’s touch there too, to carelessly steal the life of each syllable.  

 

“Before you ask--no, I will not tell you what those matters were.” 

 

“Can I ask one more question?”

 

Oswald groaned deep in his throat, “I suppose saying ‘yes’ or ‘no’ won’t stop you either way so please, be my guest.” 

 

“Can you die?” 

 

The quiet drip of water in a nearby pipe filled their silence. Oswald’s face turned from its resting contempt into genuine contemplation, each individual piece locked into place with visible effort. He inhaled a readying breath before he spoke. 

 

“You like riddles Ed, is that true?” 

 

Ed compressed every ounce of excitement into a small nod of agreement.  

 

Oswald continued, “Then I’ll answer your question with something of a riddle in my own right. That is not dead which can eternal lie and with strange eons, even death may die.” 

 

The weight of understanding collided painfully with Ed’s chest. Fingers snaked between his rib cage and dug claws into every bone. It was an easy conclusion to make, nonetheless a lead brick still placed in his hands that dragged Ed into a cacophony of confusion. 

 

“Are you--,”

 

Ed let the thought hang unfinished between them. Oswald’s eyes read warning and threat.

 

“You’ve learned enough for one day. Goodbye, Edward.” 

 

Hearing his full name spoken by such a voice, a rasped and ancient thing, gleaned more for Ed than he would care to admit. 

 

_ Keep it in your pants tiger. You did alright this time, maybe I’m not such a bad influence after all.  _

 

* * *

 

Practice really did make perfect, though Ed never expected he’d adhere that old adage to murder. It became another art form and Oswald his muse. He’d get the stubborn creature to appreciate his work one way or another if it took ten tries or ten thousand. Ed would get it right, whatever that meant to death. If Oswald would only stick around long enough, it was all Ed needed to prove himself. Always the same routine, Ed would dispatch an offending imbecile, Oswald would appear in a flurry of feathers, only to leave once the line of questioning got too personal. 

 

That was their song and dance, but Ed’s throat was dry and his feet were growing tired. 

 

“Have you always been like this?” 

 

Oswald lounged on the sofa, looking offended by the coarse fabric his hands ran over. Ed would replace it that afternoon. 

 

“Always been like what, Edward? Devastatingly handsome? If that’s the case then the answer,” Oswald’s smile curled deep in his cheeks, “is a resounding yes.” 

 

Ed stopped his ministrations with a particularly unforgiving femur, his cheeks ablaze in red. 

 

“I--wasn’t going to say that, but I can’t disagree.” 

 

_ Didn’t know I had a regular romeo on my hands.  _

 

Oswald’s head quirked, smug interest written into the lines around his eyes. 

 

“You know you’re not in any danger, Ed. There’s no need for flattery to keep me from dragging your hapless soul into the underworld,” he bared a show of brilliant teeth, “at least not yet.” 

 

Ed let out a nervous laugh.

 

“What’s so funny?” 

 

“Well let’s see,” Ed mused, “I have a bone saw in my hands and Death lounging in my apartment cracking jokes--it’s all a very funny situation when you think about it.” 

 

Oswald scoffed, “You certainly have a sense of humor unlike any human I’ve known.” 

 

“Have you known many of us for long?” 

 

The fallen silence made Ed’s skin crawl, clearly he’d overstepped the line yet again. The tightrope he walked was becoming a very tedious trek. 

 

Oswald stood in a flourish of inky feathers ruffled at his collar, he snapped the lapels without word and Ed felt a sick feeling that always preceded the loss of his companion. Ed stepped closer to Oswald, compelled to lay some physical barrier between them. 

 

“You’re standing too close,” Oswald hissed. 

 

Ed’s breath hitched. All the idiotic things he could do, deciding to challenge death was the undisputed champion. 

 

“Please, don’t leave.” 

 

“Do  _ not _ presume because I’ve entertained you this long that you have any bearing over me. I don’t answer to you. I’m not sure you realize how easily I could snuff you out without a second thought.” 

 

Ed’s head was awash in desperation. He was tired, so very tired of killing just for the chance at a short conversation with Oswald. Shaking fingers reached out to secure around a frozen hand. 

 

“I know what you are capable of, and I only ask the chance to prove myself. Is that so hard to understand?” 

 

Oswald ripped his arm from Ed’s grip. The room seemed to grow smaller as shadow creeped forward and Oswald’s form loomed over Ed with fathomless darkness. There was rumbling from the walls, tinkering glass and metal shook within kitchen cabinets across the room. Ed stumbled away from Oswald, instinct over awe brought him crashing to the ground and scrambling backward. The shapeless form Oswald took slithered close to Ed’s face, shielded in vain by trembling hands. 

 

“Look at me.” 

 

Oswald’s voice was painfully loud in Ed’s ears, but he forced himself to peer into piercing green. 

 

“Now tell me, are you still so keen for my company?” 

 

Ed wished he had a greater sense of self preservation, every wracked nerve in his body screamed to dissent, but lying was of little use. He was aching to know more, even with Oswald’s monstrous figure drenched in threat.  

 

“I am,” some mice had a mightier squeak, “truly, I am.” 

 

Ed hadn’t realized the tight grip in his chest until breath came easier and the apartment grew lighter. Oswald stood in front of him with distrust laced between every muscle, frustration weighted in each heaving breath he took. 

 

“I just don’t understand you. There have been religions built at my feet, sacrifices greater than most can comprehend paid in my name, simply for the promise that I keep away. No greater affliction exists in this pitiful world than me and yet, you only try to get closer.” 

 

Oswald sat back on the couch, feverish hands combing through his hair. Ed crawled from his spot on the floor, keeping to his knees. 

 

“I wish I could tell you, Oswald. By all accounts I should be in disbelief that you’re even sitting in front of me,” Ed sighed a resigned breath, “but I’m not. I am simply in  _ awe  _ of you.” 

 

Oswald stared past Ed, face set in an unreadable expression. 

 

“What do you want from me?” 

 

An exasperated laugh bubbled at the back of Ed’s throat. 

 

“I want to know why you saved me. Why I’m here, speaking to you now instead of carted off to whatever corner of the universe you call home,” Ed answered, exhaustion hung on every word. 

 

Oswald stayed quiet. 

 

“I want you to answer my questions instead of disappearing in a huff every time I try to get closer.” 

 

Ed bowed his head and dragged blunt nails down the length of his thighs, worried the fabric of his pants in errant hope it would relieve buzzing nerves in his stomach. He prepared himself for that disappointing gust of cold air, an empty spot where Oswald once sat, whatever might signal he’d retreated yet again. 

 

“I’ve always been like this, as long as I can remember. I try to search my memory for anything other than the inky cold I’ve known for centuries but it’s of little use anymore. If there was a me before this, it’s all gone now.” 

 

Ed kept his eyes down, willing to give Oswald an inch if he could take a mile. 

 

“I’ve known one like you before, a long time ago, longer now than it seems. He was kind, his heart noble and just, entirely too good for my liking,” Oswald looked wistful, “but he intrigued me, that much I’ll admit.” 

 

Ed felt the chasm of jealousy erode his stomach lining, it hurt to hear Oswald speak about another so fondly. He tried to keep the ugly emotion from his voice.  

 

“Did you--love him?” 

 

His laugh was pitiful but the brush off was unconvincing. Ed knew enough about human nature to note the look of loss in Oswald’s eyes. It appeared not even Death was immune to the sting of heartbreak.

 

“Silly idea, my being able to love,” Oswald quipped. 

 

Ed buried his immediate disdain of this mystery amour down in the floorboards, his own tell tale hate. 

 

“Who was he?” 

 

Oswald’s smile was a warm glow, the antithesis of who Ed had known until now. 

 

“James Gordon. He was a soldier and entirely too brave for his own good. We met long before this city stood, when these streets were rolling green battlefields and my job was never finished.” Oswald paused, two lines of thought formed between his knitted brows. 

 

“He saw me one night while he kept watch over his men. I was making my way through the desiccated bodies, one by one, taking what I’d missed that day. I always loved the cover of nightfall, being able to walk about as I pleased,” he faced Ed with a playful smile, “nothing sticks out quite like a figure wrapped in feathers, draped in foreboding.” 

 

“I’m sure you were as enchanting as you are now,” Ed muttered to himself, with quiet hope Oswald might hear and gift him a place next to the notorious James Gordon. 

 

“He saw me but never ran, never called out for his sleeping men to expel this possible threat. We talked all night. James asked me a barrage of questions, same as you--humans are always so keen to understand, never content to wonder. We shared many nights together and I always thought to myself, that must be what a blessing feels like.” 

 

Oswald’s soft expression hardened back to familiar stone. 

 

“But that didn’t last long. A soldier's life and all. I’m a condemned soul by trade, but nothing felt more like damnation than being forced to take his last breath after a well positioned enemy took their chance.”

 

Ed tasted bile in throat, or guilt, they were almost indistinguishable. A horrible revelation that he still envied James for his lasting effect on Oswald. 

 

“Begged that I take him with me and for several moments I refused, but he was suffering. At the end of it all my job is to relieve those dying souls of their misery.” 

 

The room’s energy crackled, Ed felt a cold grip on his chin like he had in the alley and again it wrenched his gaze upward to meet Oswald’s. 

 

“So,” he spat, “forgive me if I’m a little hesitant to let you in, Ed.” 

 

Ed lurched forward, his hands flat on the floor in front of him, gaze still on the figure looming over him. He shook his head slowly back and forth. 

 

“No, no Oswald. Things are different now, the average life expectancy has nearly doubled since that time. I rarely leave my house as it is so there’s very little chance of a random attack and  _ clearly _ I’m not going to make a habit of our first meeting s--”

 

“You don’t  _ get it _ , Ed. You will die, you aren’t special in that! And I’m not sure I can bear witness to another James Gordon in this century or any after it,” Oswald’s voice wavered, “I don’t get an ending the way you do, I’m not that lucky.”  

 

Ed’s knees were shaking when he stood, unsettled by how small Oswald looked in the somber space, like a steady wind could bowl him over and watch him shatter. Ed kept moving forward, feet obeying the march of his drumming heart. Oswald was stiff and cold in his embrace, from the shock or otherwise Ed couldn’t find the strength to care. He only wrapped his arms tighter, emboldened by Oswald’s vulnerable show. 

 

For once, Ed let the silence come and go without throwing useless words onto the pile. Oswald’s arms snaked around his waist, pure ice through his suit and still more warmth than Ed had ever felt from a living person. Feathery hair tickled Ed’s nose but he stayed still, content to let Oswald move when he was ready.

 

After a moment, Ed felt stirring in his arms. Oswald pulled back to look up but didn’t make any moves to disentangle their embrace. 

 

“Osw--”

  
Ed was quieted by the soft hush of Oswald’s breath. Fingers traced over Ed’s lips and he let out a soft gasp at the temperature. Oswald pulled his hand away like he’d been burned and Ed felt guilt settle in again, quick to grab the thin wrist and press curious fingers back to his lips. 

 

“It’s okay,” Ed mumbled against Oswald’s fingertips. 

 

The biting cold was quickly replaced with cool lips, pressed firmly to Ed’s like a plea. His eyes blew wide in surprise, arms wrapping tighter around Oswald. Ed shivered despite the heat filling his cheeks and decided now he knew what it was to kiss a December morning. Ed took note of the long, black lashes that fanned out above Oswald’s freckled cheeks before letting his eyes slip closed, focused intently on the way soft lips moved against his own. 

 

Oswald pulled away first, his eyes desperately searching for something in Ed’s face. 

 

“I’m sorry I’m so cold.”

 

Ed smiled with all the bliss in his heart.

 

“Winter was always my favorite season.” 

 

* * *

 

So he was in love with Death, and that was the new reality. Ed had never seen a normal life for himself, not when his greatest enemy lived between his ears and shared his reflection. But loving Death was a curve ball, so far from left field it was thrown from another stadium. There were many practical things wrong with his situation, Ed knew his problem with how little he was able to see Oswald shouldn’t take such high precedent on the list. 

 

Ed stretched out like a cat lazing in the sunshine, Oswald at his side, the feeling of his possessive touch still buzzing over Ed’s skin. 

 

“You’re getting to be quite the distraction Ed, I’m going to lose my job.” 

 

Ed curled against Oswald’s side, breathing in the scent of naked skin. Cigarette smoke curled in the air, Oswald tapping once, twice, into an ashtray on the nightstand. Ed didn’t care much for the smell, but not having to worry about Oswald’s health on top of it made them tolerable. 

 

Ed hummed, “So there’s going to be a few lives put on back order, let them have the extra hours.” 

 

He nosed the outline of Oswald’s ribs, moving over each bone--bump, bump, bump.  

 

“My underlings are not going to be happy with me.” 

 

Ed sat propped up on one elbow, fingers following the path his nose made. 

 

“There’s more of you?” 

 

“It’s nearly impossible for me to be everywhere at once, so I have hundreds of employees to be where I cannot,” Oswald corrected. 

 

Ed shrugged, rolling flat on his back and letting long limbs linger over Oswald’s smaller frame. His bed wasn’t made for two bodies but neither of them complained.

 

“So they can manage without you for a while longer. You’re fighting a losing battle Oswald, I can be  _ very _ persuasive.” 

 

Ed trailed his fingers down twitching muscles of Oswald’s stomach, light and teasing. 

 

Oswald groaned, rubbing hands down his face, “Believe me, I know. You’ve been persuasive three different times in the past two hours.” 

 

Ed preened at the thought, perfectly happy to lend distraction as many times as would keep Oswald in his bed, weaving fingers through his hair. Ed hated the thought of sharing Oswald with anyone else even if he was only there to end their lives. When Ed wasn’t the reason, he grew unsettled in his unknowing. He trusted Oswald implicitly more than any human but couldn’t trust others not to catch on to the game, play his moves, try to win death’s favor.  

 

“I could find someone, bring them back here so you felt like you had gotten some work done today.” 

 

Oswald laughed, his tone sharp and breathless, Ed wanted to bottle it.

 

“You’re making me feel like a domesticated house cat, plopping fat mice in front of me so I might still prove useful.” 

 

Ed liked the sound of bringing Oswald his victims, letting him grow fat and content inside their own world, never worrying about whose attention he was competing with. 

 

“I could certainly think of worse things than coming home to you every night,” Ed mused. 

 

The air felt cold when Ed finished his thought, Oswald’s body growing stiff under his fingers. The look on his face was blank and sad, like a thin coat of melancholy had been painted beneath translucent skin, barely managing to eke out. 

 

“Edward,” he looked straight ahead when he spoke, “please don’t do this to me.” 

 

Ed’s stomach twisted. 

 

“What are you talking about?”    
  
Ed didn’t understand, he hated not understanding. Death was vexingly complicated. 

 

“Don’t pretend our union could ever be that way, normal men who come home to normal lives. I can’t give that to you and you will grow to resent me if you let yourself believe I can.” 

 

“Oswald what do you mean? I accept you for who you are, just as you accept me. I don’t want anything more than that.” 

 

Oswald sat up, dislodging Ed’s hold on him. 

 

“Look at me and swear you mean it.” 

 

Ed felt his expression falter, hated how his ears went red. Because he was lying, and Oswald knew it. He sat up, shoulder brushing against cold skin, but he couldn’t look up from the covers. 

 

“I  _ do  _ accept you, Oswald.” 

 

His voice sounded cowardly and small. Words felt like a consolation prize. 

 

“Tell me you swear you’ll never resent me because I can’t give you a normal life.” 

 

Ed picked at the stray fibers in his quilt. 

 

“ _ Shit _ , Ed. Shit.” 

 

The bed shifted, Oswald hobbled to various spots of the living room in search of his strewn clothes. Ed felt bile rise in his throat, scrambled and tripped over covers on his way to Oswald. He knew there was very little physical strength could do to keep him there, it was too impermanent, too far out of Ed’s control. 

 

“Please, please don’t leave me. Oswald--”

 

“What do you want me to do? Let us torture ourselves with some ridiculous ideal that we can never have? Because I won’t, Ed. I won’t do it to myself and I sure as  _ shit _ won’t do that to you.” 

 

Foul words sounded foreign on a proper tongue, it was all wrong and it made Ed feel worse than before. Oswald didn’t feel like himself, he felt distant and colder than usual, not the way that made Ed’s skin prick and his ears buzz. This was what Ed felt when Oswald changed, told him to look at that inky black, formless thing that hovered in the living room to prove he could still want him. Ed did, he does, and he always will. Knew there was nothing Oswald could do to change that.  

 

“I only want you,” Ed’s voice broke, “in any way you’ll let me have you.” 

 

When he was dressed, Oswald’s clothing seemed to ripple. Feathers at the neck of his coat blustered in the still apartment air. His back was to Ed, but he could see the anger in tense shoulders and tight fists. 

 

“Goodbye, Ed. I’ll come back on  _ my _ time, do not try to summon me.” 

 

A rush of freezing air burned Ed’s skin. Before words could form he was gone and Ed was alone. 

 

The next time he saw Oswald, sounds of salt water swirled around his ears and the harsh wind thrashed his cheeks with bitter cracks. It had been nearly two weeks, painful in their loneliness and Ed could only last so long, he was only human. That was the problem. 

 

“I said I would come to you when I was ready.” 

 

“I know, Oswald I’m sorry. I had to see you.” 

 

His eyes rolled over themselves, arms tucked tighter against his body, every muscle told Ed not to come closer. For once, he listened.    
  


“Don’t you want him?”    
  
Ed gestured to the broken man at their feet, hardly three breaths left in his lungs if Ed had to guess. Oswald considered the body, did his rounds and took the offering. He wasn’t one to turn down a perfectly damned soul. 

 

“This doesn’t make up for the last time we were together. I’m still not sure I know what to do with you.” 

 

“I’m human, Oswald.” 

 

He scoffed, “I’m aware, Ed. That’s entirely the problem.” 

 

Ed knew what he had in mind wouldn’t be an easy proposition. It had been hundreds of years since Oswald considered this ultimatum and he had had plenty of time to steam about it. 

 

“So fix it.”   
  
  
“What?”

  
  
“Fix my state of being. It’s not doing either of us any good, clearly,” Ed steeled his breath, “so take me with you. We can be happy together, have the life we  _ both _ want, no normalcy required.” 

 

He braced for the response, unsure what that would even be. Oswald looked tired of running, of fighting Ed at every turn. Resignation took over his expression. 

 

“Ed, you can’t ask me to do that.”

  
  
“I can, and I am.” 

 

“I won’t do it.” 

  
  
“Give me one good reason why.”

 

His face went harsh again, shoulders raised. Feathers stood up like the ruffled fur on a dog’s neck. Oswald still had fight in him, and Ed was aching for it. 

 

He stepped closer, “How about because  _ I _ don’t want to, that a good enough reason for you?”

 

Ed stayed put. 

 

“No, it’s really not.” 

 

“My apologies, guess I’ll have to do better next time.” 

 

“Do better now. Tell me why you won’t take me with you.” 

 

Oswald practically hissed with another step forward, “You really want that? You’re asking me to take your life, Edward. I don’t think you understand that.” 

 

Ed matched the move. 

 

“I think I do.” 

 

“I’m  _ telling _ you, you don’t.” 

 

Opposing forces, ecotones at war with their very natures. Closer and closer brewed the electric storm. 

 

“I’m telling  _ you _ , I understand perfectly.” 

 

Round and round they went, getting queasy. 

 

“Oswald, you told me to look you in the eyes and tell you I wasn’t going to resent your inability to give us a normal life.” Beat. “Now I’m telling you to look at me and say you want to willingly throw away everything we have.” 

 

He stayed quiet, defiant. 

 

“But you can’t, can you? Because it’s a lie. We are asking each other to lie and we both know it.” 

 

Oswald shifted on his feet, his arms loosening from their tight shackle around his chest. Ed enclosed the last breadth of space between them, sure in his step, hesitant in the choice to wrap his arms around Oswald’s shoulders. 

 

“If I do this,” his breath tickled Ed’s ear, “there will be no going back.” 

 

It was his turn to stay quiet, silent recognition of the weight in Oswald’s words. 

 

Ed felt Oswald’s arms around his waist, that beautiful chill racing up his spine to the crown of his head. He never wanted to forget that feeling, wanted to preserve it on the shelf next to Oswald’s whetted laugh. 

  
Within moments the air felt stifling, a thousand pounds on Ed’s chest and no strength in his ribs to hold it up. He thought they might crack, pierce the flesh they’d be forged to protect and gnarl his insides. Burning, searing his chest, Ed wanted to scream out for Oswald and tell him it hurt. But death wasn’t naive to suffering, his fingers clawed desperately at Ed’s back, his face buried farther in Ed’s embrace. Oswald knew what was happening. Ed felt delicate shoulders shake beneath his arms. Oswald was crying, large silent sobs in his throat that crippled worse than the pain in Ed’s chest. He wanted to soothe Oswald, tell him it was alright, everything would be alright soon but words seemed trapped in the flaming rubble of his lungs. 

 

And then it was over. 

 

He could breathe. 

 

Edward Nygma was embracing Death, and Death held tight. 

 

Neither of them spoke, but understood. Oswald stayed buried in Ed’s arms, his own breathing finally calm. He whispered a litany of  _ I’m sorry _ ’s over Ed’s heart. And Ed smiled, as wide and as bright as he ever had. 

 

_ I love you, I love you, I love you. _

 

Ed couldn’t stop chanting the words in his mind, letting them waterfall over his tongue, cascade through every fiber in his body. Oswald finally looked up, his eyes puffy and pink and  _ beautiful.  _ Ed had never noticed such beauty in his life, but now he was free to do it in death. 

 

_ I love you, I love you-- _

 

“I love you.” 

 

He let the last one go, plucked perfect from the bouquet in his mind. Oswald was a figure forged in shadow, whose face was impossibly light. His kiss no longer felt cold or perhaps now, Ed simply had one to match. 

 

“Oswald.” 

 

Death quirked his head, looking all for the world like the sky could crumble around them and it would be okay. 

 

“Look at me.” 

 

Ed’s turn.

 

“Look at me and tell me you love me.” 

 

“Edward, I love you.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Day 3! I've had this one buried in my unfinished documents for months and I'm so happy this week gave me a reason to finish it--it's been so long I can't even remember what inspired it only that I love this story dearly and I'm excited to share it <3 
> 
> P.S - A big giant hug to all the amazing wonderful comments I've gotten on these fics so far, they warm my heart and put a smile on my face so thank you thank you thank you!!


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